Pieces
by Domon Kasshu
Summary: G1, PreMovie. What motivated Ratchet to leave Earth and join the Autobots on the Moon Bases?


At once, Sideswipe wondered if the ship's chief medical officer finally snapped. He'd come in for routine repairs(well, routine for he and his brother, at least). Things started normally. Ratchet removed the burnt out parts, soldered in new ones, and worked out the damage in his paint, all the while complaining about his reckless behavior, and that he should charge a premium for the work.

Without warning, he stopped. Sideswipe sat there, his chest panel open and his right arm unable to move. The reason, he quickly learned, was that Ratchet found himself staring at the fuel relay he'd just removed.

"Blew it out while we were running around," he said, not wanting to produce more of an explanation. But Ratchet never responded.

"Um, Ratch, I know this ain't critical, but I do have places to be."

Still nothing.

"I swear I won't mess up the new repairs right away."

The CMO responded by thrusting the component toward him.

"What do you see?"

His optics shuttered, his head cocked to one side. "A dead relay?"

"Which we can easily replace."

"Unless there's some issue in parts fabrication you neglected to tell me about earlier, yeah."

"Is there anything special about this relay?"

"Nope."

"Even if this was a relay you came off the line with—"

"I suspect every piece of me is second gen by now."

"Sideswipe." The tone wasn't angry, but it sure as hell told the twin that the question was genuine.

"Sure, even if it was. Wouldn't mean a thing."

"Huh," came the CMO's grunted reply. He went back to the repairs without another word.

--

Wheeljack laughed at Bumblebee's joke. Nevermind the face it was perhaps the least funny thing he'd heard in a few vorn, he forced it out. He owed that to Bumblebee, and to Hound and Trailbreaker as well. He liked the three of them well enough, but he only recently started spending off duty time with the trio. He fit in as well as his Dinobots might at a Nova Cronum Science Conference. But he had little choice.

For the past few weeks, Ratchet kept to himself.

His workload increased along with Decepticon activity, that much he knew. But from his understanding, his new apprentice, First Aid, took most of the workload. Ratchet had grown more distant. Most Autobots liked the change in service. Quicker repairs, less griping about their condition or the reckless acts that brought them to med bay. But, Wheeljack knew, that meant a serious problem.

His focus returned to the table, just as Bumblebee had begun another story.

"…and by the time Carly dumped the glass onto the mess in the front seat, they realized she hadn't gotten a glass of water, but a martini."

Trailbreaker shook his head. "This can't end well."

"Yeah… Spike had to explain why the car was home three hours later, and smelled of alcohol!"

All of them laughed, including Wheeljack. It was a good story. They all had good stories, these days. It was one of the few things that kept their minds from darker thoughts.

--

Ultra Magnus drummed his fingers on the desk, optics locked with Ratchet's. The City Commander learned the tactic long ago. A match of wills, you might call it. One of them would have to break first, overcome the silence.

Ratchet was first, but more from annoyance than intimidation. "Sir, my request."

"I have received it."

"And?"

"I am reviewing it at this time."

"What's to review? You got First Aid here, he's more than capable. I'm needed back home. Ain't no way—"

"Front line duty, as you know, means more than field patch and weld and triage. You're going to be fighting."

"Permission to speak freely, sir?"

Ratchet following protocol. It struck him off guard, but only for a moment. "Granted."

"Human doctors have a saying... first, do no harm. At the Medical Academy, they taught us a lot of things. We learned to heal. But I also learned to fight. Fight for my patients, and for my comrades. Primus knows I've wrestled with my decisions to fight in the past. But that saying, do no harm… it's changed my feelings on a lot of things. Maybe I'm not meant to be a healer, at least not like First Aid. I can't be that person. So I feel I would better serve this army in a field capacity."

"What else is bothering you?"

"Nothing, sir. I simply feel that, given my own personal feelings, this post is no longer appropriate."

Magnus said nothing at first, fingers running along the bottom of his chin. "I will need to consult with Optimus, to get his feelings."

"Understood, sir."

"And Ratchet?"

The CMO stopped in the doorway, and looked back at him.

"Try to relax."

The medic failed to even smile. "I don't think that's an option anymore, sir."

--

Med Bay was, miraculously, clear. A few drones remained on duty, in case of minor issues that might crop up. Twin Duty, they liked to call it. First Aid filled out the last of his reports, and headed for the door into the hallway, when he heard a crash from the CMO's office. Soon enough, it would be his office. But at the moment, it belonged to his mentor… someone who was not supposed to be there.

The door slid back as he approached, and he saw Ratchet at the desk, several cubes of raw energon scattered across the floor. But he didn't rock from the energy overflow, showed no visible signs that it even phased him. He sat in the chair, transfixed on a small part.

A burnt out power relay.

"Boss?"

"Heh." He failed to even turn toward him, to acknowledge him in any way. Instead, he kept his attention on the relay.

"Is something wrong?" First Aid moved closer. "Why are you holding that old relay?"

"Y'see?" His voice remained clear, showing no sign of the apparent bender that just took place. "Nothing special about it at all."

"I… don't understand."

"This," he said, and held up the relay, "Is an original piece of Transformers hardware. In fact, with the exception of vital systems, it's the last original component of Sideswipe's. Does he find this special?"

"Why would he?"

"Exactly. Why?" He turned the piece in his hand. "All new materials, but does that make him any less Sideswipe? I don't think so." He chuckled. "Of course it doesn't."

"Maybe we should leave for the night," First Aid said. "Get some rest."

"We burn something out, we replace the part. We repair the serious damage, and move on. That makes sense, doesn't it? Why would you get attached to _parts?_"

First Aid shook his head. "There's no reason to. I don't understand why that's bothering you."

"Parts, that's all they are." He sat the piece on the desk in front of him and stared at it a moment longer. "I don't understand humans at all."

"Is this about—"

"We worked it out. Me and 'Jack, we looked into the problem and came up with a solution. Just replace the parts, and things are as good as new. We even fabricated the replacements, a pretty easy job. So we took it in and told him what we wanted to do. And he turned us down."

Ratchet spun the relay, optics following it the whole time. "'It wouldn't be right,' he said. 'Wouldn't be me, anymore.' He thought we'd just keep replacing things and replacing things, until nothing of him was left. But he'd still be _here_. We could've used his help. Spike needed him, too. And Daniel will never have a chance to know him."

He looked up, his optics flickering, and spoke with a wavering tone that hardly matched the mech First Aid knew. "I've lost patients before. But never because they didn't want to be helped."

"Perhaps," First Aid said, and placed one hand on Ratchet's shoulder. "But humans and Cybertronians aren't the same, after all. Their lives flash by in an instant, compared to us. They can't reconfigure their own bodies to their benefit. They take the hands they're dealt without complaint."

"That doesn't make me feel any better," the CMO replied. "And this has brought all the other failings into focus. I was taught to save lives… and yet, I've killed Decepticons before."

"But it's a war…"

"I made a vow, and there were no provisions." He shook his head and stood up.

"Is that why you're going to the moon bases?"

He remained silent a moment. "Yes. They need more capable soldiers, and you can handle the load here. I have faith in you."

He staggered toward the door, still not in complete control of himself. He peered back, his optics locked on the junior medical officer. "There are warriors, and there are healers. When the time comes for you to make your choice, First Aid… I hope you'll remember which is more important."

--

"He moved around a lot," a voice called out behind him. "This was the first place that ever felt like home, for either of us."

Ratchet turned back to see Spike behind him. The chances in his human friend only served to reinforce the finite limits of human existence. Hardly any time passed since he was a child. As the ferocity of the war grew, so did their human ally. Spike was now fully grown, for that short window before his body would start to fail him.

He looked back to the headstone. One giant finger ran across the inscription under the name. _His light will shine the way for all of us._

"I wanted to say goodbye," Ratchet said at last. He refused to speak on the unsettled feeling deep inside, the one that told him he would never set optics upon this grave, the Ark, or even this world, again. Three friends already lost on Cybertron, on the last raid on the citadel.

Maybe he could save others. Maybe his gun would make the difference. Either way, his work on Earth was done.

"The shuttle's leaving soon. We should hurry."

One optic ridge raised. "We?"

"Prime finally agreed to my request. I've been assigned to Moon Base II. Me and Bumblebee… just like old times."

In spite of himself, Ratchet smirked. "Sounds like it."

"Dad'll be watching out for us. All of us."

"The Allspark watches over us all." He rose to his feet and stepped back, affording himself one more look.

--

It happened so fast.

First Brawl, then Prowl. He fought the instinct to run over to them, to try and repair his fallen comrades, but that lasted almost no time at all. He did what he signed on to do. He picked up his weapon, and began firing.

Too many. A few blasts, and both he and Ironhide went down. His systems flickered critical for a short time, then began to shut down. The sight of Decepticons, standing on the bridge of their ship, making plans to destroy Autobot City, filled him with disgust. His own failure felt even worse.

And then it started to fade, and a familiar voice called out to him.

_It will be okay._

"Sp-Sparkplug?"

_It may seem bad now, but it's the will of Primus. Our family, our friends… they're in good hands. You made a difference._

The Autobot medic took some comfort in the words, then fell offline.

--

"Heh, you got blasted by the _medic?_" Skywarp chuckled.

"Lucky shot," Spectro said. "No majors systems damaged."

Not strictly true, of course. But if he told Megatron his holo-projector shorted out, the Decepticon leader might just take his head. Besides, who was going to notice a hole in the shuttle until it was too late, anyway?


End file.
